


desiderate

by freakedelic



Series: Ashbirds [2]
Category: DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bleeding, Boypussy, Brainwashing, Cigarettes, Denial, Extreme Degredation, Lots of Child Abuse, M/M, Mindbreak, Oral Sex, Parent/Child Incest, Past Child Abuse, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Slavery, Sloppy Seconds, Threesome - M/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Violent Sex, arguing as foreplay, present child abuse, the feelings are pain and suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 13:20:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17407673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakedelic/pseuds/freakedelic
Summary: Ever since Nix was a child, Slade has always gotten his way.Nix can't seem to pull out of the gravity of his fathers' tight orbit.





	desiderate

**Author's Note:**

> the OC (Nix) belongs half to me and half to renowo uwu. also he came up with the title, thank u i owe u my life.  
> this IS part of a series so if you're here for the characters go there? but let's be honest u probably saw the "extreme degradation" and "parent/child incest".  
> here is a sequel u depraved fucks.

Slade’s smoking again. The smell fills the air, strange and unfamiliar in the place. Nix thinks Slade had quit smoking years ago, knows him well enough that he’s never done it before. Robin curls up with his head on Slade’s knee, sleeping or sitting, Nix can’t tell. Robin doesn’t move much . . . if Slade’s not fucking him or riling up, at which point he writhes and bucks as if his life depends on it. It might, for all Nix knows.

Still, the curiosity of the cigarette is enough to make his gaze linger on Slade out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing. Never seen you smoke before, though.”

“Can’t a man have his habits in peace?”

Nix shrugs. Slade blows the last of the smoke into the room. He doesn’t seem to care that he’ll be stinking it up for a long time, but—it’s his house. Nix feels more like a guest, though the feeling is better than the prisoner he felt before he left Slade. It’s not something he cares to comment on.

Slade flicks the cigarette through his fingers, bringing the tip down and extinguishing it against Robin’s cheek. Robin keens as the smoke burns away against his pale skin. Slade flicks the ashes into his hair before taking the cigarette off him and setting it on an old coffee plate. It leaves behind a bright pink circle in Robin’s face. This time, Slade looks right into Nix’s disapproving stare, as if daring him to complain.

“Are you going to look at me like that every time I use him?” Nix’s expression is not one of amusement. “You fucked him too, Philip. Hypocrisy isn’t a good look on you.”

Nix’s fingers curl on the paper he examines. “That’s different.”

A sneering laugh, one that raises Nix’s blood pressure instantly. “How so?”

Nix’s eyes are fixed on the table. “I didn’t start this. He was . . . he’s . . . already broken.” He turns to Slade, stares at the white eyebrows. “You did that.”

“And you took advantage of it. How _noble_ of you.”

“We’re arguing my hypocrisy, not my nobility,” Nix snaps. “It’s different. You and I, we’re different people in this scenario. It’s like . . .” He tries to find a willing metaphor, his eyes lingering on Robin’s burnt face, blue eyes still closed. “You started it.”

“In the past, yes. Now? You and I are doing nothing different. It opens its mouth and it’s _begging_ to be fucked. There’s no _shame_ in using something for its proper purpose.”

“Do you really believe that bullshit? About Robin not even being human?”

“Does it look human to you? Does it act like it?”

“He did. I saw him, I heard about him . . .” Nix remembers the days spent staring, the time he’d spent watching old recordings on decades old drives. In the beginning, when he’d grown up, he’d believed Slade. Slade’s right, after all—Robin doesn’t act human at all.

And then they’d told him, and it had all come crashing down at once. He’d seen the face of a boy who was brave and fierce and talented and reminded Nix of himself when he was a child. A childhood that Robin will never get to have, even as pathetic as Nix’s was. “He was a kid. A hero.”

“Yes,” Slade murmurs. The look on his face is almost nostalgic. “He was. He was incorrigible, determined, surprisingly cunning . . . he ran the whole team by himself. Saved the city a few times, I think. They all loved him.” If the universe had any sense in it, the smile that crosses Slade’s face would be filled with teeth as sharp as a shark’s. “And now he’s my _whore_. Funny how things change, isn’t it?”

Nix’s lips twist in disgust, and more than that, a fury that’s been building in him for years. “You know, I’m more proud to be related to Robin than I am to be related to _you_. If he’s an animal, you’re a _monster_.”

Slade laughs lowly, but his eye shows real anger. “That animal just carried you for nine months, Philip. _I_ raised you.”

“What a job you did. I’m your second son to up and leave you? I don’t blame the first one. Should’ve stayed away.”

There is something cold in Slade’s face now, something that makes Nix’s senses press themselves horribly on edge. “You came back.”

“Not for you,” Nix hisses. “For _him_.”

Slade’s fingers dig viciously into Robin’s hair, yanking his head up. Robin’s head snaps as he’s pulled halfway off the couch Slade sits on. His face turns red with blood as Slade pulls him up roughly to face Nix, Robin’s legs scrabbling for purchase. “Really?” Slade utters, ignoring Robin’s small sounds of protest as if they weren’t there. Nix supposes they must just be background noise to him now. “You really think you can save this pathetic little thing, boy?” He shakes Robin’s head for emphasis and Robin whimpers. Nix can stare into his eyes and know that he doesn’t know what’s happening, can’t find out why Slade is angry with him and hurting him and not for the first time Nix questions how he can keep existing at all under the heel of Slade’s boot. “Better people have _tried_.” He drags Robin off of him and throws him viciously to the ground before Nix can react. Robin skids on the carpet with a squeak of pain. Fear-filled eyes regard Slade towering above him. For half a second Nix expects Robin to fight back, but the thought is funny in and of itself. Instead, the bruised and bloodied body just curls in on itself. Nix didn’t think it was possible for Robin to look any smaller against the off-white wall carpet, but the boy shrinks to almost nothing.

“Slade!” Nix protests.

Slade growls wordlessly, fingers hooking into Robin’s collar as he drags him across the room in two short strides. Robin’s heels dig halfheartedly into the floor but his arms hang limply.. “I think you’ve forgotten,” Slade grunts, “exactly what he is.” Nix can’t seem to move at all, staring at disaster unfolding as he always is when it comes to Slade—an unstoppable force of nature. Robin crashes into the wall with a choked yell. Nix sees the plaster crack as Slade holds him there with one hand, twitching without any real hope of escape. He looks like a fish out of water impaled by a fisherman, naked against the wall of the room.

Slade’s eye leaves him as his legs kick pathetically, turning to fix its unstoppable glare on Nix. “You’re telling me you came back for this little _slut_?” He grins cruelly, fingers splayed over Robin’s chest—just over his nipples, stained purple with bruises, the brand so commonplace that Nix never pays attention, so close to Robin’s heart it’s a part of him now. FUCKTOY. Slade’s hand, unmistakable, writ over every part of Robin’s soul. “Face it, boy,” he growls, hand fumbling with his belt, “the most valuable thing about him is his _cunt_.”

Nix looks away before he can rethink the impulse. He hears Slade’s fly unzip, stares at his fingers, and he feels like a child again, when he was helpless to stop everything Slade would do to him. Not that he really cared about Robin then, he supposed—

He didn’t know Robin used to be a person, back then, when Slade ruled his life.

_So why are you standing here?_

Nix’s fingers curl into fists on his lap as he stands, staring over—

Robin shrieks, back arching into Slade and forming a half-circle as he pushes against the wall, shoulders digging into the cracks already formed in the plaster. Slade’s balls-deep in his ass, puckered hole stretched obscenely along his member, impaling him. Robin’s legs twitch like those of an animal caught in a trap. Nix can hear his pained breathing from where he sits as the boy struggles to take Slade into himself. Blood beads as Slade thrusts again, merciless and vicious, red staining the white hair at Slade’s crotch. Robin cries out again. Slick, transparent tears bead at the corner of his eyes. Fingers scratch at the plaster, leaving grooves in the wallpaper.

“Oh, shut up,” Slade sneers, disgust tracing its way through his voice at the state of the thing impaled on his cock. Fingers scratch up the brand on Robin’s chest to clamp at his jugular. Robin chokes, mouth opening and closing wordlessly. A hand goes to Slade’s wrist, clawing weakly. Slade’s other hand pries Robin’s leg up, pressing it at a sick angle against the wall, making Slade’s fucking easier.

Blood drips to the floor, staining the rug. Nix can see Robbin’s slit between his legs from where he stands, stretch and unused.

Nix remember how it felt to bury himself in him, and his cock twitches. He bites down on his tongue, filling with the same crimson that drips from Robin’s legs. The taste of regret, from when he was a child and Slade split his lip, to now, when he picks fights he can’t win.

Slade’s hips thrust with cruel force, Robin gaping. His tongue lolls obscenely out of his face as his eyes roll back, from lack of oxygen or pleasure Nix can’t tell. Slade’s breathing is rough as blood slicks his cock, thrusting again and again with all his painful force. Robin slams back again to the wall with every thrust, head kept in place by Slade’s fist. Slade’s breathing is rough, face twisted in fury that he pours into his every move on Robin, squeezing his throat harder and pushing himself further into him, spreading him wider to fit more inside. The tears that spill from Robin’s eyes wet Slade’s fingers, the blood torn from his hole staining Slade’s clothing.

Nix feels like he should do something, say something, in the face of the fury and pain he knows he caused, make some sort of noise to stop them and their hideous display—so familiar, too familiar, blood and sweat and screaming.

He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. The harsh breathing and gasping from across the room is all that he can hear, punctuated by the flesh on flesh and the pained crashes of Robin pushed into the wall.

Saliva drips down Robin’s lip and smears his chin as he’s thrown by Slade, slammed down on him again and again with unrelenting force, too much for something so tiny. His hand falls from Slade’s forearm, slipping down his chest, fingers curling limply. Fear jolts through Nix, wondering if he’s hurt—

Slade empties himself into Robin with a groan, holding the small form down against him, fingers digging cruelly into Robin’s thigh as it presses into the wall, stretching skin and showing off every little thing. Robin doesn’t make any noise at all, Slade sneering in his face as he slips out of him. Blood and Slade’s seed drips down his legs as Robin’s thighs fall together with a smack, pathetic like a doll as he hangs from his neck.

He falls when Slade lets him go, his small form making little noise as he crumples and collapses in a small pile on the ground at Slade’s feet. Slade stands there for a few seconds, making himself decent again, breathing calming. Nix approaches, face turned down in disgust, concern—for his father, and . . .

Whatever Robin is to him..

Slade turns to him. He no longer seems angry, aggression taken out on the thing at his feet. Nix crouches, his fingers pulling at Robin’s hair. His face is pale in the jumble of limbs, tongue dripping saliva. Slowly, blue eyes open, and Nix lets out a noise of relief, rocking back on his heels. Robin gets to his knees slowly, face twisting in pain, blood from the back of his thighs smearing on the ground. His mouth closes, tongue sweeping over his lips, slimy with spit.

“He can take it,” Slade says casually, still standing above them. Nix’s head turns to see him. “Nothing I haven’t done before.”

“I’m sure,” Nix mutters. He looks back down to see Robin lapping at his boots, curled on the ground. His tongue slips out to shine the dirt off of it, almost absently. So submissive. So broken.

Nix’s fingers pry him off, cupping his chin. Robin stares blankly, tongue hanging out of his mouth—

_Ready and waiting,_ Nix’s mind supplies. Robin pink tongue flicks out at Nix’s fingers, saliva slicking the tip of them. Nix watches it absently, and then he’s gathering Robin in his arms. Robin is light, limbs curling around him easily. He lays his head on Nix’s shoulder and bends his knees around him. Nix can feel Robin’s tongue on the side of his neck, warm and wet.

He can feel Robin’s cunt against his gut, hot and slick. Nix closes his eyes at the hitch in his voice, pulling at Robin’s shoulders to bring him to the couch. He still bleeds, every whine of pain twisting around Nix’s heart and strangling its beats.

Robin settles over Nix’s knee, perfectly obedient. He’s docile when Nix’s fingers slip off of him, small hands leaning forward to curl in Nix’s shirt as he stares up at him.

Robin’s eyes are so goddamn _empty_. Wide and willing like the rest of him, waiting for Slade to fill him. If Slade’s eye is an abyss waiting to swallow you up, Robin’s gaze is outer space beyond the glass of a capsule, irises holding back an eternal nothingness.

(Nix thinks that Robin is the only person to ever know Slade, completely and utterly.)

“Put that down, it’s filthy,” Slade commands brusquely. “Coddling him won’t help.”

Nix looks down. Robin bleeds all over the leg of his sweats, still leaking Slade. Flecks of dried dirt rub off on Nix’s shirt from under his nails, dried _something_ flecking off of his thighs. He’ll have to change after this, pick up the clothes he’s left in Slade’s mansion.

“Maybe I want to,” Nix replies. He realizes how petulant it sounds and grimaces after the fact. His hands land on Robin’s hips, smooth skin marred by scars—SLADE’S, the most prominent one reads, snaking around the side of his hip. It’s rough under his fingers, but Robin doesn’t seem to notice as Nix traces the letters.

Slade raises an eyebrow,  much closer when Nix looks up from Robin. He casts a towering shadow. “He doesn’t even recognize you.”

Fingers move up and down Robin’s hips absently, almost digging into the curve of his ass. It’s still slick with Slade’s blood, and Nix finds himself brushing it off on Robin’s back with disgust. Robin ignores him as his fingers tighten in his shirt.

“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t _care_. Maybe it’s not about—heroism. Maybe I’m just not a sadistic fuck like you.”

Robin moves, rocking slightly on Nix’s thigh. It takes Nix several seconds to follow Slade’s gaze down. Robin’s legs are splayed in front of Nix’s hips, his desire staining the clothes as he rocks—grasps at Nix’s shirt and uses it for purchase as he ruts desperately on Nix’s hips. His mouth is open slightly, face creased in concentration as he stares down. Nix can feel Robin’s lips rubbing against his thigh as Robin moves his hips forward in back in search of friction. His breathing comes in little puffs.

“Look at that,” Slade says smugly. “Already begging for it. It’d be crueler _not_ to fuck him.”

Nix almost turn red as he watches Robin’s display, biting his lip as he feels Robin’s knee rub against his cock. Robin’s hairless and slick, spreading himself as much as he can, whining slightly at the lack of penetration. He looks up at Nix, blue space spinning with a mindless need. _Animal_ , Nix can’t help but think as Robin thrusts his hips again, keening. The small body pulls itself forward, hot through Nix’s t-shirt. Roping scars are visible on the face, the shoulders, all the way down as Robin blinks up at him. He’s so sad, so terribly, terribly sad, and Nix can’t tell if those are his feelings or the ones he sees reflected in the blue eyes before him, like a pool with nothing in it.

Nix’s fingers move slowly, hesitantly, as if afraid that Robin will push him aside as he brushes past the scars on his hips and down to his crotch. As soon as Robin realizes what Nix is doing he bucks—enthusiastically, almost violently, whining with need. Nix’s fingers slip into the folds of him, hot and slick. Robin thrusts the small nub onto Nix’s finger joint over and over, whining. His eyes fill with a delirious need, almost maybe happiness if Nix cared to squint and maybe he does for once in his life want to, want to look at Robin and think that maybe he’s not miserable, assuage his guilt for all the pain he caused by (existing, hurting, believing Slade.) Nix’s fingers slip deeper, slick to the knuckle as Robin’s mouth opens and closes with his thrusting. He’s hot and the walls clench around Nix’s fingers tight as Robin pushes them in and out of himself, horribly desperate. Skinny legs close around Nix, and Nix looks away from the scars inside of Robin’s thighs as the boy moans—

And oh, he’s changed his position, he’s fucking at Nix’s chest and his ass is rubbing at his cock and Nix bites his tongue but he can’t help it. _Think of Robin, think of when you were a kid and he was there and he was strange and he gave—_

_he gave birth to you—_

Robin keens and ruts against Nix’s fingers as they slip in and out with small squelching noises, unpleasant as Nix cringes. His legs hike up to get purchase, to press himself in further to get Nix to go deeper, curling at the back of the couch, ass rubbing into Nix’s crotch. Nix feels the skin move under his fingers, back and forth. He’s so small, horribly terribly tragically tiny, and it seems so _silly_ to think of him swelling with Slade’s child and pushing it out of the thing that Nix’s fingers press into, twist into as Robin mewls helplessly for _more_ —

but Robin takes Slade’s cock and it’s another thing that shouldn’t fit in his small form but Slade has bent him and ripped him open and sewed him back with fluff hanging out the seams. A broken toy—still useful.

Robin moans again and Nix’s cock stiffens in his pants, right under the warm presence in his lap as Robin looks up at him with wide eyes. A small pink tongue pokes out between his lips, concentration—

(like he used to do when he was a child and Nix saw him when he was hero as a real Robin as someone who wasn’t Slade’s)

Robin rubs himself on Nix’s erection with all the fervor he can, head tilting back to get a better angle. Nix feels himself slip between Robin’s cheeks, the boy perched on the tent in his pants and spreading his legs and moving them up—he still leaks Slade in strings, smearing on Nix’s pants and across Robin’s body. Nix can see his hole, loosened minutes before, dragging over his own cock, trapped beneath the fabric. He aches, biting his lip, and the world seems to come down to him and Robin in his arms, so desperately chasing his craving for pleasure. _He wants it._ Nix hisses through his teeth as Robin catches on his cock, aching without release. Robin’s breath is in huffs with every snap of his hips, face red, eyes begging. Nix feels himself rub through the fabric, the heat almost too much to bear— _is this what Robin feels like all the time_ — _He wants it—_

Nix’s hand grips Robin’s ass, desperate for friction, sliding fingers out of him halfway, pulling him to where he rubs against Nix’s cock in the best possible way, making him groan aloud. Nix’s eyes slide close, unaware of the black as he grips Robin’s hip, moving him. Robin is easy to manipulate, goes  with every move Nix makes, teasing his hole on Nix’s cock. Nix can feel himself getting slick, not with Robin’s but with that of his own trapped cock, hissing. He opens his eyes to see Robin staring at him, panting, tongue slick in the light. He keens. Nix fumbles under him, Robin sliding back, Nix pulling at his zipper in a half-conscious haze. His cock springs into his hand, pulling it out of his briefs—Robin makes a short noise and then Nix is pulling him up and sitting up and sinking into his ass. Robin slips down, slick with Slade’s excess, groaning as his small hands bite into the fabric of Nix’s shirt.

He’s hot and tight and _perfect_ and Nix can’t help but moan with him, not bothering to bite at his lip as Robin begins to rock, aimless and helpless and needy, trying to thrust himself onto Nix’s fingers, still halfway out of his dripping cunt. He squeezes Nix tight, walls sliding along his length with every last movement.

“He’s—god, he’s tight.” Nix can’t even hear himself say the words as he digs his hands into Robin’s hips, adjusting his angle to probe deeper in him. He can feel Slade’s load still moving inside Robin, sloshing around his cock.

“Isn’t he?” Slade purrs. He’s above them now, fingers pressing bruises into Robin’s shoulders. Hands so huge on the pale, battered body slide lower. He’s been watching them, Nix realizes absently, a single blue eye on the things that he made. Robin’s movement is lessened by the hands on him and he keens in annoyance, trying to rock—

Slade’s hands move down, pressing on bruises, fingers tightening viciously around pink nipples. Robin opens his mouth wider in a loud moan, strings of saliva dripping onto Nix’s chest. His eyes roll back, hips bucking so Nix’s fingers slide in to the knuckle, tightening like a vice around them as he shudders through his orgasm. Walls press in on Nix’s cock, every vein pushed into, clenching like it’s trying to expel him from the orifice. He can’t stop himself from cursing under his breath, nails digging into Robin’s soft hips as he drags himself through the pressure, on the edge of his own release.

“Needy little thing, isn’t it?” Slade twists once more before moving up to Robin’s neck to wrap around it once again, fingers too large. Nix wants to protest the rough treatment but Robin rocks again and he’s hissing with the pleasure coursing through him. He’s _good_ at this, horribly desperate but letting Nix in every little part of him easily, spread open wide for all he has to give. It’s almost generous of him, existing in a body that isn’t his own, a consciousness somehow alive in something that seems to be only a toy.

_That’s not_ true _,_ something in Nix insists, remembers the used to be Boy Wonder who stood tall and proud. He can’t connect it to the body in front of him, pale and naked and bruised and abused. Slick and waiting. Nix pulls Robin further onto his cock and groans at the friction of it.

Robin bends under Slade’s hands on his neck, spine curving back as he’s bent in ways bodies shouldn’t be able to. His head is curved back and back and back, hips still worked weakly by Nix. _FUCKTOY_ , Nix can read, before it disappears towards Slade. Dark hair hangs about his upside-down face in greasy strands as Slade pauses the movement, one hand clenched around Robin’s jugular, the boy’s mouth hovering near his crotch. Nix wants to protest, knows he should, can already feel the guilt pooling in his gut with the coursing arousal, but Robin clenches tight around him again and he can feel the orgasm getting closer and he’s already balls-deep in him.

It’s not like Robin cares, not like he knows, not like it even _matters_ whether its Nix’s seed spilled deep in his body or Slade’s, either way he’s used and defiled and fucked stupid.

Slade’s cock is slipping once again out of its confines, the tent already visible. Nix tilts his head away from the sight, almost feeling that it’s indecent. Slade’s thick, should be too thick for Robin. As he adjusts the slick tip of it and it pries at Robin’s reddened lips, the jaw stretches and when it can’t stretch any more Slade pulls it open. The sounds are wet and obscene, Slade penetrating as far as he can into the bent over boy. Nix can see the head of his cock moving in Robin’s jugular as he slips in the wetness with a sigh. The first thrust moves under Slade’s fingers, jerking deeper and deeper, Robin’s small sounds of choking distress ignored. Vibrations meet Nix, pushing at Robin’s hip with his one hand, pushing himself in and out Robin’s used hole with a slow steadiness. Fingers still linger in his cunt, making wet noises with every shift. Robin’s frame moves between them, the sticky sounds contrasting with Nix’s breathing—

The fucking of a child, a boy who never got to grow up, now spread and impaled on Nix, swallowing Slade down.

Slade’s close, breathing hot on Nix’s skin. If Nix didn’t know better he’d say he was leaning in. Curled white hair is visible above Robin’s chin, the jugular under it frantically moving and swallowing. His cunt rides up into a gaping slit as Nix fucks his ass, still half-penetrated by slick fingers. Robin’s insides slip along his cock, the top hitting just enough to tease, engulfed in hot and slick and moving. Nix grabs Robin harder, pulling him along, even as Slade snaps his hips, a wet and debauched noise coming from the other side of the thing they both use.

Hands close around his wrist, hard and bruising. Nix looks straight up into Slade’s piercing blue eye, boring into him, as Nix’s fingers are yanked out of Robin’s cunt. Slickness spirals between them, dripping and smearing onto clothes. Robin bucks his hips, wanton and needy, slicking along Nix as he moans.

“Don’t spoil him,” Slade reprimands, breath hot on Nix’s face. Nix hisses, grinds his hips and Robin moves on top of him, Nix curving into his being. Nix opens his mouth to say something but suddenly Slade is too close, right in his face. “You’re fucking him too, Philip. Coming hard in his worthless body. Just like _I_ did when _I made you_.” The words are hissed with an intensity Nix doesn’t understand, the slick sounds of Robin’s mouth being stretched along Slade’s member echoing through his mind as Slade licks his lips, white-glinting stubble and a singular eye narrowing in, tilting—

Slade tastes of mint and blood and something harsher, crueler, as he bites into Nix’s mouth and thrusts his tongue between the lips, almost unexpected but not quite. Nix tries to pull away but Robin is forced onto him, twisting unnaturally and Nix _moans_ with the feel of it and his hips buck as he loses himself in Robin, gasping with pleasure into Slade’s mouth as he feels the sick hotness of his own orgasm pool in Robin’s body. Slade bites out his moans expertly, Robin’s body still moving on him in tune with Slade’s cock, and Nix is overcome as he twitches through the last of his pleasure.

Spit trails between father and son as Slade pulls away, hovering in front of Nix’s face with an expression that’s hard to place. Saliva dribbles down Nix’s chin and he doesn’t bother to lick it up. He feels like almost a mess, but Slade is just as perfectly in control as ever. Nix had almost forgotten how infuriating it was. Between them is Robin, twisted back, held deep on Slade’s engorged length and stretched as far as he can. Nix doesn’t have the will to pry him off and so he stays lodged in him, cum slicking down his cock and between his balls, not all his own.

“You still want to try to save a breeding whore from its own instincts, boy?”

“That’s . . .” Nix feels exhausted suddenly, all of it taken out of him, but Slade starts thrusting easily into Robin’s mouth again, in and out with _schlock_ noises that should make Nix shudder but don’t. Just when did this stop disgusting him, he wonders, Slade’s easy use. When he was five? Ten? Did it ever bother him?

It seems like the most natural thing in the world to see Robin’s tiny form lodged between them, dripping and used and docile, cheeks and throat growing with every thrust of Slade’s length down his throat. Nix’s fingers are on his hips again, set in bruises that Slade’s already made. Perfect handprints, gouged ways to use for the next person who comes along and looks sideways at the worthless body. Jolts from Slade travel down, and Nix can barely believe himself as he finds his cock aching again, wanting more and more and more of the thing on him, and he can have all he likes because there Robin is offering everything he is to him as if it belongs to him.

Like Slade says it does.

Nix pulls him and thrusts and looks up to see Slade’s low grunts coming to a conclusion, a rough hand fondling his length as it slips out of Robin, semen in sticky white spilling over his lips and in his eyes and staining his hair. Slade seems satisfied, pushing Robin back up with a groan from Nix’s own feeling, face to face with something violated. Robin stares with dumb blue eyes, mouth slightly open, confused, as if Slade’s cum dripping down his face isn’t something that happens to him daily, smeared on the tip of his nose and turning his hair lighter. Drool collects on the pink tongue, Robin gasping for breath. Nix groans, hard enough that he can’t stop his arousal but too tired to know if he wants it—

Hands close on either side of Robin’s face, almost taking him over. Slade’s cum is hot on Nix’s fingers but it’s no more disgusting than the slurry of fluid his cock is buried in, collecting on Robin’s dark eyelashes as he blinks up, docile and useful and so well trained.

“I’m sorry,” Nix whispers. Robin’s head tilts, uncomprehending, tongue flicking between his lips absently. He pants, like a dog. He’s still stretched on Nix’s cock, puckered around him like the perfect sleeve. Nix bites his lip, folds his hands across Robin’s bare and bloodied back as he pulls him to his chest, heedless of the filth. Robin is hot against him, barely moving at all. He tucks his head under Nix’s, nuzzling at the top of his shirt as he settles. Legs wrap around Nix’s body, pulling him close, pulling Nix’s throbbing cock deeper into his body. Something resonates in Nix’s chest and it takes him a second to realize it’s Robin, making a noise he’s never heard before—

Not one of happiness but one of contentment, of comfort, however temporary.

Nix will fuck him again, spill himself hot in him again, in minutes, betraying the love he proclaims and feels and knows so deeply, and Robin will never know a thing.

Never care.

He purrs in Nix’s arms.


End file.
